Darkness
by Ragna Katharina
Summary: Voldemort has won The Wizarding World lies in tatters. A gift from Lucius endangers Snape’s position. Will he be able to turn this gift into the most lethal weapon he has ever created? - A response to Maenad’s challenge.
1. Default Chapter

Darkness  
  
by Iejasu   
  
Disclaimer: Don't own them! I don't owe anything...but I like to play with them.   
I put them back later on :)  
  
Summary: A submission to Maenad's story challenge.   
  
Rating: Not suitable for people under 16 would think   
  
Many thanks to my proofreader Sana, who helped me wonderfully with the   
grammar and wording!  
  
  
  
Chapter One - The rogue bludger that fled the game -  
  
  
  
"Quidditch was sometimes played for weeks on end. Once, a   
bludger disappeared into a marsh, and to all knowledge it   
is still there, roaming free, randomly attacking anyone that   
approaches it."  
  
  
Severus Snape knelt before his master, head bowed into the dust, unmoving,   
trying to slow his breathing. He forced himself to control every fibre of   
his pain filled body.  
  
The cruciatus curse had become something of a close friend to him over the   
years, someone he knew intimately. He had been cursed so often, sometimes   
for minutes, sometimes for hours, that he knew the pain more than he did   
any lover. Maybe the cruciatus was his lover, the only lover he deserved.  
  
  
Voldemort had finally won. The destruction of the wizard communities had been   
quick, bloody and very thorough.   
  
  
No muggle family that had given birth to a wizard, had been spared.   
All mudbloods, he knew of, had either been killed or had been held   
as slaves for various reasons. He had used a couple of them for potion   
experiments, some had been used for curse developments, others as pleasure   
slaves.  
  
They were thought of as nothing but cattle.  
  
Live had become a dark maze of pain and pleasure. Mostly pain for him.   
The spark of light was dim, almost eradicated.   
  
But somehow a few people had been able to maintain their hope. A hope for a better   
future. But where, but how? Sometimes, when he was in his laboratory, his careful   
forged facade shattered. Like the day he had been sent that woman. He had remembered   
her name, had recalled her from one of his classes, back when she had been a young   
girl and he had been the dreaded Potion Master. The woman in front of him had been   
merely a shadow of a human being, fragile, thin, malnourished. What she had encountered   
in her still young years had been written in her eyes, in the void that he had seen in them.   
  
  
Those eyes had reminded him of another pair of eyes he saw every morning he dared to look   
into a mirror. She had recognized him too, her old potion master. She had harboured no   
hope in that discovery. He had given her food. Then he had killed her with a newly   
developed potion. But he had altered it a bit. When she died in his arms, she had   
smiled dreamily as if she had seen something beautiful. Death was not an enemy anymore.   
It had become the best friend to most wizards.   
  
  
"I am pleased with your performance, my servant. You will be rewarded." Voldemorts   
voice sounded almost human, a mere deception forged for young death eaters.   
Inwardly he had become an absolute monster, nothing human left in him. Only   
the need for power, the lust for power and greed reigned in his veins. This   
insatiable hunger was what kept him alive. He lived from the pain and fear of his   
followers and his enemies. The more they hated him, or feared him, the stronger he   
got. There was more to it, but who knew the full truth? Not even Snape could claim   
that much and he was part of the Inner Circle.  
  
  
"Thank you, my master. I am yours to command." Dutifully Snape kissed the hem   
of the Dark Lords robes and crawled away like a beaten dog. In these times pride   
was only in death.  
  
*******  
  
Striding though dark alleys Snape avoided every lantern, every light from the moon   
or from a gap in a window. Darkness was his ally. It protected him from curious glances,   
from prying eyes and from malevolent glares.  
  
  
Finally he reached the destination.   
  
  
The person waiting there was much younger than him. He knew him well.   
It was one of the younger Weasleys. Without a word he waited for the password.   
It came quickly and without hesitation. "Asphodel and Wormwood."  
  
Snape handed him the list without further conversation. There was nothing to converse about.  
The small group of resistance fighters, that still struggled against the all consuming   
darkness was small, their fight almost hopeless. Dumbledore was dead, struck down by one   
of the most powerful curses. It had been the last true battle, now it was more like a   
guerrilla fight. Small strikes in dark corners, quick, dirty and desperate. Not much   
better than the raids of the death eaters in more civilized times.   
  
And Severus Snape continued his dirty work, spying for them, trying to keep them alive   
by warning them while most of his "allies" would kill him on sight. Only few knew that   
he was still working for the "good" side. Most considered him a vile traitor, a true   
death eater by flesh, bone and soul. The only people that trusted him grudgingly were   
Potter and the Weasleys. That did not mean they liked him. Trust does not necessarily   
involve friendship. No tears would be shed when he died. And he was glad about that.   
Potter was the last hope for any future, he was all that mattered now. Not that he would  
tell that the young man at any given time.   
  
Wordlessly he disappeared back into the thick shadows. He had another appointment tonight,   
one that was equally dangerous but to his taste even less pleasant than sneaking in the   
dark. He had to make a visit to Malfoy Manor, having a "peaceful" evening with Lucius   
and his son Draco.  
  
********  
  
The Malfoys were considered crown princes of the new wizard community. They were   
greatly in favour of the Dark Lord and their word was almost law in this new era.   
It had not improved their manners in any way, Snape thought to himself. But he was   
good friends with Lucius, as good as two scorpions could be friends. One always   
smiled in the front and hid the dagger in the back, waiting for a chance to strike   
before being stuck. Not that Severus had ever been accused of smiling...  
  
  
Arriving from his laboratory by floo powder he stepped out of the fireplace,   
wiping off the imagined soot.  
  
  
He faced Lucius with cold eyes. The smile of his old acquaintance was broad, as always,   
and just as dangerous.  
  
"Ah, Severus. You recovered quickly from our master's attention."   
  
Nothing but a firm nod and a murmured "Good evening, Lucius," was all Snape was willing   
to answer to that. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Draco, a similar smile on his face.   
  
"Good evening, Professor. A pleasure to meet you." The pleasure was not on Snapes side.   
He only nodded as a reply.  
  
They spent the evening by the fire, discussing atrocities and playing mind games.   
Draco Malfoy now acted like a shadow of his father, his manner equally repulsive.   
Snape sometimes wondered if the boy had any personality of his own.   
  
"Severus, you look positively exhausted. You should get a little entertainment from time   
to time. Our master knows how loyal you are and wants you rewarded. He asked me to provide   
for a little distraction."  
  
He could hear a tantalizing hint of something in the older Malfoy's statement, but   
he was unable to pinpoint the exact meaning. However, he knew that what Lucius   
called "entertainment" would not be pleasant.  
  
He was unable to pinpoint the meaning without further investigation but it was boring   
nothing he would have called pleasant. Another test of his loyalty? Another atrocity   
performed by the faithful death eater Severus Snape? His nightmares had become almost   
unbearable during the last years.   
  
He had been forced to retreat to a highly addictive mix from muggle drugs and   
wizarding potions just to get any rest at all. And he knew it would destroy him even   
if he was able to survive Voldemort and his games.   
  
  
Lucius waved the silent Severus towards the fireplace.   
  
  
**********  
  
  
Certain entertainments were common for wizards as they were for muggles. Certain houses   
of entertainment too. Snape had never really liked paid company but he preferred an   
agreement to stealing females attention. Despite his reputation he was not a sadistic man.   
And sometimes even he needed some release.  
  
His eyes measured the various females and males in cages, waiting to be chosen by   
interested customers. He was able to see injuries, legs and arms that were just a little   
bit too thin, ribs that stuck out from too little food.  
  
They all concealed their faces behind animal masks, making them nothing but flesh to   
use without human features. A cock, a dog, a cat, a hippogriff, a dragon, a pig, a horse   
and a badger.  
  
  
Those masks were to conceal their humanity, making them look like puppets or toys, while   
hiding the emptiness, fear and desperation in their faces  
  
  
These were pleasure slaves, free to use for any wizard willing to pay the price or with   
the right connections.  
  
He sneered disgusted. "Lucius, these wretches are nothing but skin and bones."  
  
Lucius laughed mockingly. "Oh, Severus. These girls and boys are skilled. They will   
deny you nothing." He sniggered slightly. "Absolutely nothing..." And as if suddenly   
remembering something, Lucius added "And the master especially pointed out that you need   
some sort of release....."  
  
Snape gritted his teeth, as he knew what was expected of him.  
  
  
He regarded them carefully, trying to decide which one to take. A young female with   
fish net stockings caught his eyes. The mask of a cat fitted her nicely, and he had   
the feeling there was still some spark left in her, faint but still there. Her legs   
were thin but their shape was still pleasing to his eyes.   
  
  
He unlocked the cage with his wand and indicated to her that she should follow him.  
  
  
He did not even turn to check that the cat followed him obediently upstairs.  
  
  
Neither did he bother to light the room when they reached the chamber for this "meeting".  
  
He did not want to see her face, he did not want to see the hate or the utter lack of   
any emotion. All he wanted was a quick release and be done with it, no bad aftertaste,   
no taste at all if possible. No more images that would haunt him in the nights to come.  
  
Her voice was a low purr. "Let me make you more comfortable, Sir." Skilled hands reached   
up to his collar, trying to undo the buttons.  
  
He held her wrists. "You will not touch me unless I tell you to." His voice was the   
dangerous silky purr he once used in his classrooms. And she obediently relaxed, being thoroughly housebroken.   
  
He let her hands go and nodded in the darkness towards the bed.  
  
"Undress and lay down. This will be quick." He was not sure why he said that. Was it to   
comfort her or to give him more comfort?   
  
He bound her wrists with the robes that were lying on the bedside table. She could   
inflict harm, if he let his guard down even once.   
  
  
Silently he sat down next to her. Sadness pulled at his heart. Why were young girls   
forced to prostitute themselves? His hand touched her gently. He could feel the warm   
skin under his palm. The skin was so young, so soft.   
  
His body reacted to the closeness of the female. She smelled clean but he detected   
the faint odour of fear. Her appearance was a mask just like the cat mask but the nose   
of a potion master was not to be misled. The bondage made her expect rougher treatment   
than normal intercourse.  
  
For a moment he thought of soothing her fears by a quick reassurance but he bit his tongue   
just in time. He was a deatheater.   
  
Without any further comment, he braced himself and released just enough fabric to   
perform in the expected way. It had been quite some time since he had had any and   
indeed his body showed faint signs of interest. Grinding his teeth he supported his   
carnal instincts by the usage of his hands and his mind. When he was ready, he entered   
her with one swift stroke, riding his hunger out between her thighs. He came quick and   
hard, in complete silence, like a bitter cough into the folds of womanhood. She had not   
moved a bit and he was grateful for that.  
  
It was a bleak relief. But everything was bleak now. Why should this be any different?  
  
All he could murmur was a bitter "Done...". He knew that he would need to remain longer   
in this room, Lucius expected him to have fun. He decided to use some intimidation to   
ensure her discretion. "You will keep silent about what has happened here or you will   
regret it, girl."   
  
He saw her nodding to his demand. "Yes, Sir."  
  
Snape curled up with his back towards the bound girl and tried to get some rest, even   
though he knew sleep would not overcome him in this place and with another being so   
close to him. Staring at the wall he waited for the sunrise.  
  
His nose caught her smell now more accurately. His sense of smell had always been   
extremely keen. She smelled nice, like peaches with a hint of mint. A strangely familiar   
smell that made its way down to his stomach and released some kind of warm feeling, like   
the distant memory of better days. He drew in a deep breath.  
  
"Why are you sniffing after me like a dog...." She murmured with a hint of surprise mixed   
with amusement in her husky voice.  
  
He knew he should turn and strike her for that, punish her for her insolence but somehow   
he was pleased that this girl had kept a spark of life, a spark of defiance in her frail   
form. He turned towards her and touched her mask gently, pulling it off in the darkness.   
  
"Would not a dog sniff after a cat?" he murmured remotely amused. In the darkness he   
turned and drew her closer. "Sleep little cat....no more entertainment required for tonight."  
Her smell was strangely reassuring, almost like a narcotic. When he closed his eyes and   
drew in her scent, he saw sunlit quidditch fields, children with their brooms, the   
classrooms and the bubbling cauldrons. He saw better days which he had never cherished   
while they had lasted. His eyelids became heavy and without realizing it, he slipped   
into a light slumber.  
  
  
********  
  
  
The Cat lay in his arms, she knew this man. She had feared him long ago, hated him   
just as much. But tonight he had not beaten her, he had not hurt her, at least not   
much. She had seen many males, but his hands were almost gentle. She remembered his   
hands well. Long, white fingers with neatly clipped nails. She recalled how gently he   
used to treat his vials, his cauldrons, even the ingredients. While the rest of this   
person was vile and unapproachable, his hands had always been gentle.   
  
Tears welled up in her eyes when she recalled those carefree days, carefree in   
comparison to this all consuming darkness the wizarding world now lived in. All entries   
towards the muggle world have been sealed. She could not vanish into the muggle world,   
even if she could find a way to flee from this hellhole.  
  
She still remembered the times of the last battle. She had been right in the middle of it.   
In a short break she had run into the dungeons, seeking solitude. Dumbledore had been   
killed only hours earlier during the heat of the battle.   
  
Down in the cool darkness of the dungeons, she had heard a hauntingly discordant sound,   
like the wailing of a wounded animal.  
  
Following that sound her eyes beheld a vision she would never forget for as long as she   
lived, no matter how old she would become. The emotionless, unapproachable Potions Master,   
knelt on the floor, clutching his face, rocking back and forth. First she had believed   
him injured but when she had made a sound, the man had looked up from his position, his   
face distorted by emotional pain, anger and something close to madness. Turning in horror,   
she had run.  
  
When the dark angle cried, the world would come to an end. That moment she had realized   
that the final battle was near. His crying was the horns of Jericho. And indeed,   
Hogwarts' walls had fallen that night. She had been away when it happened. Fear and   
horror had made her run into the Forbidden Forest.  
  
All muggleborns inside Hogwarts that had happened to survive the final battle, were killed   
later by the victorious deatheaters. She was dead to everybody she had once known. She had   
betrayed all she had believed in when the instinct of self preservation had made her a   
coward that day.  
  
Weeks later, they caught her stealing food in a small wizarding community. The time turner,   
she had once used, made her older and they did not recognize her. She was not killed, but   
sold to a brothel.  
  
Through rumours she had heard of the resistance. She believed those rumours, they kept her   
alive. She had cried in relief when she had heard that Harry and Ron were alive.  
  
McGonagall had been executed in public a few month later. The Head of Gryffindor had died a   
very old woman when Death finally embraced her and took her away.  
  
  
Snape had been standing on the dais, pale and unmoving. More than a few people had seemed   
to hate him even more than Voldemort. The hate and disgust for the traitor was still   
considerable. Even now some accused him of having killed the beloved headmaster. She   
was unsure about great many things. Was he still a double agent? If he was, which side   
was he working for?  
  
The Cat fell asleep, taking in the scent of the man beside her. She had slept with the   
enemy more than once. She had given pleasure to them and a tiny part of her brain told   
her she deserved everything she got.   
  
She had betrayed them all, she had abandoned her friends, she had even abandoned her   
own name. Hermione Granger was dead, she had died in the dungeon of Hogwarts five years   
ago.  
  
************  
  
Snape was woken by the sun shining on his face. He hated it and jumped out of bed quickly,   
dressing himself with a flick of his wand. Only then did he see the mask lying on the floor.  
He lifted it, looking at the grinning face of a cat. Slowly he turned towards the girl that  
had spent the night with him. The girl that had strangely been the inducer of good dreams.   
Better than any potion.  
  
His mouth fell open when he saw the slightly gaunt features of the young woman. He knew   
that face, he knew her bushy brown hair, her fair skin. The amount of makeup and artificial   
colours could not deceive a trained spy with so many years of experience. He once knew her   
brain even better than her looks. That brilliant young witch he had found so annoying and   
in the same time so pleasing among those dunder heads at Hogwarts. Now he also recalled why   
he knew her smell. He had often checked her progress by leaning over her, sniffing the   
scent of her potion. It had been a precaution because she used to work with Longbottom   
and had had the most annoying friends. Yes, he recognised her... or what was left of her...  
  
His lips formed her name but the sound never left his throat.   
"Hermione Granger..."  
  
How had she escaped?   
  
He had seen the children being killed, he had seen the burning piles of dead bodies   
smouldering in the quidditch pitch. Since that day, the gruesome smell of burning flesh   
had never really left his nose.  
  
Some few had managed to flee, but most had been caught quickly. Potter and Weasley had   
looked for her for weeks after the battle but she had been gone. They had held a small   
ceremony and had thought her among the fallen.   
  
The last time he had seen her was in the dungeon shortly after Albus died.  
  
  
He had crawled into the shadows like a wounded animal and mourned what was to come.   
She had found him. He had seen her eyes, wide and full with realization. She must have   
run afterwards. He had seen the horror in her eyes. Like a rogue bludger she had simply   
quit the game, seeking her own survival. A very Slytherin thing to do, the former Head   
of Slytherin mused. The rough bludger had been caught but nobody seemed to have realised   
that she was a survivor of the last battle. He smiled grimly. Her Gryffindor bravado had   
finally met its limits. But the price had been high.  
  
He sat next to her on the bed and released her from her bonds. She woke up staring   
into those cold, dark eyes and instantly knew that he had recognised her.  
  
"I failed them... I failed everyone..." she whispered."  
  
He could hear the self loathing in her voice. He knew that feeling far too well.  
  
The former potion master touched her lips briefly, silencing her and bending down,   
whispering into her ear. "...we all failed that day, Miss Granger."  
  
Her eyes filled with tears as she heard him address her that way, a naked whore lying   
on a bed, and still he called her "Miss Granger"... Burying her face into the rich folds   
of his robes she cried "I am a Cat... I am nothing but a deceiving cat... worthless,   
heartless...."  
  
A hand rested gently on her head, stroking the short brown hair.   
"Yes, you are a cat. Like I am a dog, licking the boots that kick me." The bitterness   
in his voice was overwhelming. He lifted her face, a finger below her chin, forcing   
her to look into his eyes. "...but we still know, we remember, that is the tragedy."  
  
Severus Snape got up and left the room silently, leaving the crying cat in her own misery.   
  
Moments later the door opened again. Draco Malfoy entered with a wide smile.   
"So, how is everyone's favourite mudblood doing this morning?"  
  
Cat's eyes grew wide in horror.   
  
Draco sat down next to her on the bed, smiling and taking off his belt.  
"Now let us talk a little about...last night...."  
  
The screams from the room were silenced by a charm not to disturb any paying customers   
in Malfoy's playhouse.....  
  
  
TBC..... 


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness  
  
by Iejasu  
  
Chapter Two - Pawns  
  
  
Days passed by, Snape was working on various projects interrupted   
only by short hours of rest on the couch in his laboratory. He still   
inhabited the dungeons at what had once been Hogwarts. The proud building   
was reduced to ruins but the dungeons had survived. He found it fitting to   
live among the rubble and the echoes of the past. Some of the powerful  
old wards and spells still worked inside the dungeons and provided more   
security than any other place these days. The rats and other animals hardly   
disturbed him as long as he could keep them from his ingrediance.   
  
His long fingers played with the needle, idly turning it, looking at the   
soft glitter of the metal. He detested himself for his weakness, but   
there was so many things he detested himself for, this one thing   
hardly mattered anymore.  
  
Snape tightened the strap around his biceps and injected the seven   
percent solution into his veins. Like a numbing mist the drug coursed   
in his body, placating his pains, first the physical and after   
reaching the brain, also his mental pains. He sighed deeply and   
sank back onto the couch, staring up to the cracked ceiling with   
cold empty eyes, resembling more the glare of a dead fish   
than that of a living human being. The cat haunted his memories.   
Those cinnamon eyes that had become so dull. But there was nothing   
he could do. He was in no position to help her without harrassing his  
own position. There was more at stake. One life more or less destroyed   
hardly mattered anymore.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
"You know what to do?" It was not a question but a statement.   
Draco Malfoy licked his lips in anticipation. His father suspected   
that Snape was not entirely faithful to their Master, he seemed more   
and more listless and had never shown the same enthusiasm compared   
to other deatheaters. If they could proof that he was a deceiver,   
they would gain the ultimate trust of the Dark Lord, maybe making   
him, Draco even his heir to the throne.  
  
The Cat nodded. "I will tell you everything I see, everything   
he says and everything he does _not_ say. I will gain his trust and be   
his slave." Her voice sounded even, almost like a recording.   
She kept her eyes to the floor, it was not good looking Master Malfoy   
into the eyes, especially not after he had had his ways with her.   
Sometimes she wondered if he felt soiled by her attentions.   
  
"When you get evidence, I might be even grateful. There are ways to get   
to the muggle world. I could open the borders for you, allowing you to leave."   
He grinned as she looked up with a faint glimmer of hope.   
"Yes, Hermione, you can go home then, back to your muggle world. Just be a   
clever little Gryffindor and suck him dry."  
  
Her breath caught in her throat. Going home? Being free again? Never again to   
see a wizard or a witch again? Not being used by anybody? Freedom? A part of   
her mind wanted to tell her that it is nothing but deceit, but the other part   
clung desperately to that possibility. They had plenty of girls like her,   
maybe they would let her go. They had enough whores.   
  
"Yes, master." Kneeling on the floor, head bowed she waited motionless  
until he left.  
  
She would get to know everything she could about Snape. She would gain his   
trust. She would see if he was faithful or not. What was there to loose?   
She had already betrayed everything, this hardly mattered anymore. It was   
not as if she would endanger Harry or Ron. Snape had never shown any pity,   
why should she cover for him if he was a traitor? Her head spun. A traitor,   
but to which side? Which side was the cat on? Was she still with Harry or Ron?   
They had not even looked for her after she had fled. They knew that all   
mudbloods were slaves. But the resistance hardly did anything to help them.   
Did she owe them anything? She owed herself something and if she had any   
chance of being free again she would grab it and run.  
  
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She realized that she would betray   
even Harry and Ron, just to get away from all this. Her strength was used   
up, she had to utilize the little that was left to rescue herself.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
Standing outwards the lifeless ruins that were once known as the "Hogwarts   
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", Draco Malfoy and a companion waited   
patiently. Snape had numerous hidden wards and traps placed around the ruins  
and it was suicidal running around without his guide. Draco was not willing   
to risk any damage just for delivering his little "present". Snape had even his   
own floo connection booby trapped. So Draco had informed Snape by owl that   
he was arriving. It was clearly a sign of dismissal that the old potion master   
refused to be on time. He arrived almost 10 minutes later, staring at both from   
some distance.  
  
"Who is that?" Snape glared at Draco, pointing his pale long index finger at the  
cloaked figure. "I do not like visitors. Another lab rat? I don't need them and   
I do not feed unnecessary spares." The sneering cold voice was every bit the   
feared Potion Master.  
  
Draco smirked. "My father sends you a little gift. He told me it is   
your birthday and he wanted to cheer his old friend up."  
  
Snapes face twitched a little. His birthday? He had ignored his birthdays   
for decades. This was clearly some sort of trap. Reluctantly Snape approached   
the two persons, weary of any attack. In these days one was wise not only to   
fear his enemies but also his friends. Especially his friends.  
  
"So get done with it, Malfoy. I've got work to do."   
  
Draco pulled the cloak from his companion to reveal the girl from the brothel.  
  
Snapes eyes narrowed. "I don't need any homeworker." Draco started giggling in   
a most unbecoming way. Obviously he found the remark amusing.  
  
"Well, she is yours. You can fuck her, you can kill her and you can do   
anything in between. Your own private Gryffindor, all yours."   
  
Snape saw that there was presently no real way out of this "present".   
  
He stared at the former Gryffindor know-it-all. Her blank expression told him  
far more than he wished for. Roughly he grabbed her by the short brown mob of   
hair, dragging her roughly towards the ruins, gracing Draco with his back.   
A calculated risk. He did not even bother to regard Draco with any response.  
  
After guiding her though a maze from invisible traps and twisted debris, he   
finally reached the core of his dungeons, the laboratory. Without hesitation   
he shoved her in one of the storerooms and locked her in.   
  
Tired he sat down, covering his face with his hands. What was he to do? This   
was a trap, he could feel it in his marrow. He should kill her instantly and   
be done with it. But if he killed her, Malfoy would make sure that the resistance   
would become aware of it. If he kept her, he would be under constant surveillance.   
Where were her loyalties? This girl was not the Gryffindor he used to scare, she was   
a creature of Malfoy's making. This woman was not really Hermione Granger anymore,   
she only shared her memories. And letting her go would blow his cover even if she   
remained silent.  
  
Working on his latest project, he threw all else aside. Work was the best remedy   
for anything.  
  
***********************  
  
The next day a dull bouncing at the storeroom door reminded him of his guest.  
Opening the door he saw her sitting on the floor, covering her eyes from the faint  
light of his laboratory.  
  
"You are still alive. How ..", he paused a bit, "..unfortunate."   
  
All she could croak was a request for water. He gave her something liquid, careful   
not to hand her any potential weapon like a breakable glass.  
  
"Now we will talk a little." Without allowing her to regain some sort of defence,   
he pulled her up by her hair and dragged her to the couch, literally throwing her   
onto the dusty cushions.  
  
"Why have you been sent here?"  
  
She looked at him with dull, tired eyes. The reply was automatic, the drugs he had   
given her, one of his muggle/wizardry combinations, relaxed her and made her speak   
the truth at the same time.  
  
"I am here to bring you pleasure, Sir." She wanted to reach out and touch him but he   
slapped her in the face, hard. That seemed to have the desired effect. Her eyes focused   
for a while.  
  
"You will not touch me without my consent! I repeat my question. What are the orders   
Draco has given to you? What has he promised you when you obey."  
  
She seemed to struggle for a while and for a moment he thought that he had miscalculated   
the dose but she kept awake, even though her eyelids were fluttering.  
  
"He wants to know if you are loyal or not. If I find out...home." Her voice became   
more and more slurred.  
  
Snape leaned back. Just as he had anticipated but just as the Malfoys had forseen,  
this revelation changed nothing. He could keep her, he could kill her. If he killed her,   
his position at the resistance would become lethal. If he kept her, he had to watch his   
back constantly. A no win situation for him, like so often.  
  
She was about to fall asleep. He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her hard, giving   
her some slaps in the face for good measure. "Just one question, then you can go to sleep.   
What do you think of Harry? Is Harry your friend?"  
  
The girl looked at him with a quite stupid glance.   
"Harry? He has not helped me, he has forgotten me. He has not even looked for me...."  
  
Snape nodded. This confirmed his last suspicion. Her loyalties were destroyed.   
It would not change anything if he would tell her differently. That Harry and   
Ron had looked for her, that even he had tried to find her, that Hagrid had   
given his life in search for her. That poor, stupid, simpleminded, kind Half Giant.  
His heart had been bigger than the whole of Hogwarts. Now his remains rested in   
the Forbidden Forest, wild flowers guarding his last refuge. He let her go and   
she fell back onto the cushions, falling in some sort of drug induced  
unconsciousness. He sighed at the sight of this sparely clad female on his couch.  
She was oblivious to the thoughts of the sinister man sitting opposite of her on   
a lab stool.  
  
The decision was quite clear. Hermione Granger had to die.  
  
  
  
TBC..... 


	3. Chapter 3

Darkness   
  
by Iejasu  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own them! I don't owe anything...but I like to play with them.   
I put them back later on :)  
  
Summary: The continuation of a submission to Maenad's story challenge.  
  
Rating: NC-17 I would say  
  
  
  
Chapter Three - The Death of Hermione Granger  
  
  
The Cat woke up in the same dark closet. She tried to lick her   
lips but her tongue was too dry.  
  
Groping around in the darkness of her cell she found a stale  
loaf of bread and a pitcher with water.  
  
After she had moistened her lips, she felt a little better.   
Out of experience she realized that Snape had drugged her.   
She faintly remembered a conversation, but everything was   
blurry inside her head.  
  
He had obviously questioned her but he had not used the old   
veritaserum, he had used something else. sodium pentathol?  
Could a wizard know of this drug?   
Even she had heard of it only when she had watched television   
during the holidays, before the war...  
  
  
He knew why she was sent here, she was sure of it.   
But what would he do to her?  
  
Sitting in the darkness, with only her own heartbeat to accompany   
her, the fear was almost suffocating. She lost any track of time,   
drifting in and out of strange dreams and blurred visions of the   
past or the future.  
  
  
She was woken by distant screams. First they sounded animal, but then it   
slowly transformed to more human intonations.  
The Cat crawled into a corner, covering her ears with her hands, trying to   
shut out the terrible noise. It did not help much. In her desperation and   
fear she started to scream herself as if she could drown the other wails.   
  
The howls made the air too thick to breathe, and they increased to wild  
crescendo of desperation, fear and pain. Suddenly everything was silent again.   
  
The lack of all noise was even more terrible. The silence of death.   
  
The cat rested her face on her pulled up knees, crying in the darkness,   
dreading what was to come.  
  
*******  
  
Snape had obtained a young hind from the forest. A beautiful animal that radiated   
innocence almost like an unicorn. Even as a child he had a certain way with animals.  
If he wished he could call them out of the forest.  
  
He remembered faintly that he had met a unicorn once, when he was nothing more than  
a five year old boy. The unicorn had towered over the small, shivering boy and had   
cried. He sneered at the memory. Today any unicorn would run at the sight of him.   
  
Innocence and Severus Snape were two complete opposites.   
  
  
He looked at the hind's eyes. They were beautiful even when widened in fear by the  
spellbinding. She had almost the same cinnamon eyes like the Granger girl.  
Admiring its beauty, Snape stroked it's soft fur, speaking soothingly in soft tones.  
  
Taking his wand out of his cloak, he drew in a sharp breath and started the   
transfiguration.   
  
The hind struggled, panic in her eyes, the screams of the terrified animal  
changing while the transfiguration took place.   
From the shriek of an animal to the horrified screams of a young woman.   
  
A mindless copy of Hermione Granger stared at him, panting and struggling   
against the spellbind without success.   
  
But not even the best transfiguration would ever be able to make an animal into the   
perfect copy of an individual human being.   
  
From the distance the hind now looked like Hermione, but it would take some work   
to hide the imperfections.  
  
Snape's dark eyes filled with something that looked almost like sorrow.  
  
He knew what he had to do. Even if it was only a copy, the image of what   
needed to be done would stain his memory in yet another gruesome way, eating   
away a little more of the humanity that was left to him.   
  
Sometimes he wondered if he was still on the good side or if he had long ago   
sacrificed his meagre consciousness to the tasks that he had been set up to do.  
  
*****  
  
The Quidditch pitch was one of the few unguarded places   
in the old Hogwarts grounds.  
  
Snape had painfully removed all wards and spells to allow the animals to  
collect the corpses and clean up. Secretly he had wished to bury the children  
but it would have undermined his postition.   
  
His clean black shoes wandered though the terrifying debris scattered   
everywhere.  
  
Nothing but dry bones and ashes housed the place that was formerly filled   
with cheers and laughter.   
  
Snape carried the naked, mutilated body of Hermione Granger in his arms.   
Her face was almost beaten to a pulp, he had raped her and cut her open   
like an animal. He himself was covered with her blood, his hair sticking even   
more than usual. The smell of blood surrounded him like a cloak.  
  
Nearby, a lone figure was waiting.  
  
Snape knew he was under close surveillance.   
He was used to it. They could not see inside the dungeons and some of   
the remaining structures but they covered the grounds surrounding the ruin.   
  
Lucius Malfoy was already waiting for him, alerted by the screams,   
something like disappointment on his face.   
  
"My, my...Severus. I never knew you had it in you." He shook his head and even the   
cruel Malfoy turned a little green at this disgusting sight. "I had hoped she would last   
longer in your care, Severus."  
  
Snape lifted his eyes and glanced at his old school colleague.   
"You tried to spy on my, Lucius. I don't appreciate that."   
His voice was clipped and full of cold anger.   
  
Lucius smiled ruefully. "I am sorry, my friend. Anyway, good that you are   
on our side. Potter would not appreciate what you've done to his little   
girl friend." He laughed lightly.  
  
"I don't give a damn about Potter and you know that," sneered Snape as he laid down   
his burden and set fire to the mutilated corpse.  
  
*******   
  
He left the pitch without turning back. Lucius was now successfully convinced of his vile   
nature. He was sure that he had made some sort of picture of the event. Something to use  
against Snape if necessary but that was not yet important. He could still present Potter  
with a living proof of his 'innocence' if the need should occur.   
  
Sending her to Potter was not an option. She was a too great risk to the resistance.  
But now he could control her, the ones that had set her up, believed her dead.  
  
Hermione Granger was dead. Her bones were united with those of her school colleagues.   
The girl in the storeroom had no name and no past.   
  
She would be his creature, his creation. A thin smile that never reached his eyes   
tugged at the corners of his mouth.   
  
The girl belonged to him now. He had paid a high price for her life. She owed him.  
  
  
TBC... 


	4. Chapter 4

Darkness  
  
by Iejasu   
  
Many thanks to my proofreader Sana :)  
  
WARNING NC-17!  
  
Chapter Four - The casting of a spy  
  
  
Snape stirred listless in his porridge. Hogwarts had no house elves left, all   
were either dead or had fled into the forest when the outer wards had been broken.  
He did not need any elf. He did not mind the dirt or the dust. He hardly took notice  
of the neglect, neither of this place nor of his person.   
  
Granger was still locked up. Sometimes he gave her food.  
  
He could not risk letting her out until he had prepared the stage.  
  
It would be hard work to realign her according to his wishes. He smirked dryly.   
Muggle techniques often held interesting insights, which wizards never took notice of.  
  
Brainwashing a human being was not as hard as most people would think. All it needed  
was some subtlety and a lot of discipline. He had to gain her trust, make her see that  
he was not that bad, give her some illusion of being in charge. All her values,   
even her self esteem were already destroyed. Having nothing to depend on, her mind would   
convince her that her situation was not that bad, that there were options. Her loyalty   
would shift towards him. And then he would be able to create the tool he needed.  
  
He smiled dryly. It was all so easy. So frightfully easy. Half the work was already done  
by Malfoy and his cronies as well as Potter and his friends. He would only take the shards  
and melt them down to cast a new bell. A bell that would sing the tune he wanted to hear.  
  
******  
  
The Cat spent the time either sleeping or eating. There was something in the water,   
she knew it. It made her drowsy and gave her strange dreams. She remembered faintly   
terrible screams but maybe it had been nothing but a nightmare. Rocking gently   
her mind drifted to all directions.  
  
The door opened and Snape looked down at the huddled female, regarding her with a  
long, cold stare. "Girl, you may come out now if you wish. Detention is over." He decided  
never to call her by her name, she had no name anymore and he remembered that she avoided  
her own name. It held too much of what she was ashamed of.  
  
She felt suddenly as if she was still in school, as if there was still any school left.   
Stiffly she got up from the floor, unsteady on her feet after three days in the narrow   
prison.He reached out and gently took her hand to help her on her feet, a unconscious   
mockery of a chivalrous gesture.  
  
His hands were soft. Holding her hand, his face hovered over her, turning up his long,   
crooked nose.  
  
"You smell." Without hesitation he guided her to the bathroom. Candles were   
lit and a small incense burner stood at the corner. A tub awaited her, full with steaming   
hot water.  
  
"Get undressed." The command was short but without malice.  
  
She hesitated for a moment but decided that it was wiser to obey. Her soiled clothes   
fell to the floor and he helped her into the water. Getting a soft cloth he   
cleaned her up.  
  
She looked confused. "What are you doing, Professor?" The drugs were still in her   
blood and she felt in an almost dreamlike state, wondering if she was awake or not.  
  
The soft velvet voice answered her. "You are greatly weakened. I do not wish you any harm."   
His movements were gentle, almost sensual and the cloth wandered over her body, never  
staying too long at one spot, cleaning her, together with the warm water giving her the   
illusion of peace.  
  
Her head fell back but his free hand caught her skull, before she could get hurt.   
Then the same hand guided it gently to rest at the edge of the tub. She inhaled the   
soft fumes. The smell of herbs and spices filled the air. A part of her fuzzy brain   
wanted to know the origin of these fragrances but all she could hear in her mind was a   
line from a song mentioning parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.  
  
She started softly humming the melody of that song.   
  
Snape regarded her under half closed lids. The drugs helped greatly. He had added some   
Chinese herbs to the water as well as the incense burner. Now she was completely relaxed.   
Her mind was in a dreamlike state. Highly receptive to any suggestions.  
  
His hand wandered over her lithe body, washing off the grime and dirt from 3 days   
imprisonment. Her skin had become much lighter than he recalled. She had almost his   
skin colour, pale, but not the unhealthy shade he had earned himself though decades of   
abuse. She did not fight his touch, even in the most intimate places. Like a rag doll she   
floated in the water, eyes closed, humming this melody. But his desires were not affected   
by that liberal presentation. His wants surpassed her mere body, his ultimate goal was her   
soul.   
  
He started washing her bushy hair, massaging her scalp, rubbing her neck gently   
while doing so. A low groan rewarded his efforts.   
  
Slowly he let out a low humming, almost sending her into trance. One could hypnotise   
not only with eyes, but with voice as well, if one commanded a certain control to  
the vocal cords. "There is nothing to fear here. You are secure."   
He smiled at that. Right now he could snap her neck like a twig. It would be so easy,   
she would hardly feel anything. Gently he teased the small hairs on the back of her neck,   
sending her into delighted shivers. Blowing against her moist skin, he murmured lowly.   
"Shhhhh, child. Relax. All is well..."  
  
A soft whimper answered him.   
  
He lifted her gently out of the water and wrapped the half sleeping woman into some   
towels, carrying her into his bed.  
  
He bound her wrists to the bed posts. She was already half asleep and hardly fought   
his actions. She did not even bother to open her eyes. For a moment her face distorted  
as if fighting a bad dream but Snape bent over her, purring with his velvet voice words  
of comfort. She relaxed again, allowing him to cover her with a thick blanket.  
  
Having her outside the closet was necessary, but allowing her to walk  
around was not acceptable. He walked off to get some rest and to prepare   
for the next phase.  
  
******  
  
The cat woke up feeling warm and comfortable even though her arms had fallen   
asleep due to being bound to the bed. She looked around. The room was dark   
and she could smell the dust and the cobwebs but the bed seemed clean. The faint  
squeaking of a rat or a mouse did not disturb her.   
  
A dark figure entered. She knew it was Snape. He held something to her lips and  
she, being thirsty again, swallowed.  
  
The potion master looked down on her. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I am feeling..." she hesitated slightly, as if she was trying to make up her mind,   
"..fine, Professor."  
  
He unbound her wrists and helped her up into a sitting position, rubbing her numb arms   
gently to help the circulation. She was completely naked but he seemed to be unaware   
of that fact. Her head appeared to be all fuzzy and did not seem to clear up. She could not   
concentrate. But strangely it did not really bother her anymore. She passively allowed   
the silent ministrations, regarding him with curious eyes.  
  
His low voice encircled her. "You are aware, Miss Granger, that you are a risk to   
my position. I cannot allow that. If you want to stay here and if you want me to   
treat you in a decent way, you will have to obey me." His eyes made contact and it   
seemed that they burned with a dark fire. "You have to obey completely."  
  
She nodded dutifully, wondering briefly if this was still a dream.  
  
His hand went up to her cheek, stroking it gently like a child's. "If you are not a good   
girl, I will have to punish you. I don't want to have to, but you force me to.  
  
She could not quite understand everything but something  
in his voice made her hurt inside and tears welled up in her eyes.  
She nodded silently.  
  
His eyes closed briefly. "That is good. I am greatly relieved."  
  
Snape handed her some clothes. Many trunks were still among the rubble and ruins   
of Hogwarts. He had found some suitable clothes with relative ease.  
  
As Snape watched her dress, he decided on altering the dosage now.   
  
******  
  
The Cat looked down her skirt. She felt differently. Professor Snape treated her almost   
with something like fatherly concern. Only when he could not take her with him, he locked   
her up into the closet. During the night she slept in his bed, alone, bound to   
it. She did not mind the shackles anymore. In the morning he would come and wake her up,   
rubbing her arms back to life. A part of her longed for his touch, those long, slender   
finger wandering over her skin. But he only touched her if he had reason to do so.   
Never spontanious. And he forbade her to touch him.  
  
He allowed her to help him with his work as long as she kept silent. Once or twice had   
she tried to speak but he had instantly slapped her across the face. She had the feeling   
that he took no pleasure out of it. He shook his face in something one could almost call   
remorse. "I told you I don't like disturbances. You promised to obey my wishes."  
  
She nodded holding her cheek. He treated her so much better than anyone   
else in a very long time.  
  
******  
  
Snape watched her closely, day and night. He used a wide range of potions and drugs on her.   
Psychopharmaca as well as special morphine derivatives. Mostly to put her in a childlike  
state without dampening her too much. He watched her especially closely after he had   
punished some slight disobedience. Yes, his plan had started to work out.  
  
She looked more hurt about her cheek than about the slap in the face.  
  
Lately he went to Hogsmeade on a regular basis, looking for the right target.   
Witches and wizards came and went. He had patience. He just needed the right one....  
  
When he came back to his project, the girl in the closet waited for him in silence.   
The drugs had made her an obedient little girl.   
  
He knew that she had snatched one of his knives that he used for the cutting of ingredient  
in a faint attempt at rebellion.  
  
He had allowed it. It had taken him 3 hours to find where she had hidden it. A loose   
brick in the closet was her safe. Afterwards, he searched for the knife in her presence.   
  
She looked almost crushed as his black eyes focused on her.  
  
"I fear you have abused my trust." His cold words rolled from his tongue and he could   
see her shrinking away from him. All of the sudden he smiled. "Ah, well. I think we can   
let it go this time. You need the knife for work?"  
  
She nodded before she caught herself.   
  
With the most fatherly tone he could muster, Snape replied gently.   
"Well, then it is okay, don't you think?"  
  
His sharp eyes registered the quick widening of her pupils. Obviously the desired effect   
had been successfully induced.  
  
She turned the small penknife in her slender fingers as as if it were made of the most   
precious gold and jewels.  
  
Now and then she looked over to him, frowning slightly. He could see her brain working.   
She was not really aware that she could never inflict real harm with that tiny knife.   
She understood it as a token of complete trust, maybe even a gift of affection.  
  
She couldn't be more wrong. Snape's features twisted in something like self disgust.   
She was the most successful project he had ever set into action.   
  
And it promised to be the most lethal.  
  
  
TBC.... 


	5. Chapter 5

Darkness  
  
by Iejasu   
  
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian :) She is great :)  
  
  
  
Chapter 5 - Making use of what is there  
  
  
Malfoy Manor glittered in the dusk as if it was covered by thousands of jewels.   
Many tiny house elves held candles to the arriving guests, dressed in luscious robes   
as they stepped onto the red carpet that led from the gate to the entrance of the manor.   
The ladies looked charming while the gentleman looked formidable.   
  
Small talk was exchanged in the usual polite manner. In former times the revels of the   
death eaters had been in secret, but now everything was changed. The death eaters were   
respectable men and supporting Voldemort was considered appropriate behaviour.  
  
A reporter from Witches Weekly stood not far from the arriving guests and made notes   
for his article and the photographer made sure that every single one of the stunning   
robes would appear in the next edition together with the article.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy was first lady of the luscious wizarding community of Britain, every   
witch of taste wanted to know exactly how she dressed and how she spent her day.  
She was the leading role model for wizarding fashion and style.  
  
Draco Malfoy was every young witches dream. A dashing young hero with a striking smile  
and perfect manners.  
  
His father, Lucius Malfoy was no less than the right hand of the all mighty Fuehrer,  
Voldemort.  
  
Champagne was served to the guests and the music invited some of the younger couples   
to dance.  
  
The robes swished over the polished dancing floor. Young debutantes of this   
grand community eagerly displayed their belonging to this radiant vision of the   
wizarding world.   
  
After dinner the inner circle withdrew politely into the library, discussing more   
private matters over a glass of port and a fine cigar.  
  
Lucius Malfoy straightened his elegant robes, posing in front of the open fireplace,   
one foot nonchalantly placed on a stool as he told his newest anecdote.   
The epitome of a winner.  
  
"He had gutted her! I just wonder, did he gut her before he fucked her or afterwards?"   
Lucius Malfoy laughed about his joke and his son as well as the other guests quickly   
joined in.   
  
Draco, always eager to please his father, added something.  
"Severus might have enjoyed that. He always thought that Granger was a know it all,   
maybe now he knows everything himself after posing as an augur and reading in her entrails..."   
  
The laughter increased. It was not wise to forget that Draco was the crown prince.   
  
"Snape the Augur. That is good!"  
  
Lucius Malfoy grinned and clasped his sons shoulder in appreciation.   
He pulled a small picture from his breast pocket and handed it to his son. It was a   
shot made from the distance with a wizarding camera. One could see Snape on it and   
the girl on his arms definitely looked like Granger. Wordlessly he allowed his son   
to study the picture.  
  
Draco admired it, tilting his head in thought.  
"Potter will probably find it very interesting to know what became of his little girlfriend!"   
  
Suddenly the flames in the fireplace changed and a head popped out.  
  
"Pettigrew Manor has been raided by the resistance!"  
  
The present inner circle turned pale and Lucius started swearing, throwing his glass   
into the fireplace.  
  
The glass flew though the projection and even though the man flinched, he did not   
shrink back. "Pettigrew is dead!"   
  
The room, first deadly silent, now erupted in noise.  
  
"Potter and his band of marauders will pay for that!" Lucius roared as he turned to  
deliver the news to the Dark Lord.   
  
******  
  
Harry Potter, leader of the resistance, entered the BBC Building and,   
looking casually enough, passed the old porter who smiled at the young  
man. Harry had made sure that he would think him as a member of the staff, some   
delivery boy or something along the line.  
  
Inside the BBC Broadcast building was something called the "Stronghold", down  
in it's labyrinthine basement which is, in fact, an old WW2 bunker, build in 1941.   
  
  
He passed the doors to the "Stronghold" and climbed down the staircase, that had   
been named by muggles "The Stairway to Nowhere", because to them it ended in a brick   
wall. Potter walked up to the brick wall and passed through it, very much like   
the entrance to the platform 9 3/4 on King's Cross.  
  
After rearranging his spectacles, he glanced around, nodding to various families   
camping on the abandoned Bakerloo platform. This place was just perfect. It even   
had a well, so there was enough fresh water. Hidden deep below muggle London it was not   
within the actual perimeter of the wizarding parts of London, like Knockturn Alley or   
Diagon Alley that were now dangerous to anybody not loyal to Voldemort. One of his many   
projects was to build a tunnel to Diagon Alley.  
  
London itself with its Underground tunnels was the perfect hiding place for the   
resistance.  
  
Nodding to some refugees he recognised, he passed through the groups of people lying   
around on mattresses, their meagre belongings spread on the floor or hanging from the   
walls and ceilings. Privacy was a luxury that only the sick and the dying could be granted,   
sometimes only accomplished in death. The true reason for this was not the respect for   
the dying but the bad influence the sight of death had on the living. There was nothing   
sacred left in dying. It had become an everyday sight.  
  
He climbed over some people, unaware of the smell that emanated from unwashed bodies, sickness  
and poverty. A small child grabbed for his trousers, trying to get his attention but he hardly   
took notice. All he could think of was last nights' raid. They had been successful but the cost   
had been high.  
  
Sometimes he wondered why he continued fighting. He was so tired. Maybe he only continued because  
he could either fight or die. He could never join Voldemort, become one of the now respected   
death eaters. The "Boy who Lived" had become "The Man who Still Fought", and the people   
expected him to be their saviour. But when everybody was sleeping and those around him had   
finally become silent, the tiny voice within him was audible. The tiny voice that asked him   
unpleasant questions.  
  
  
Harry Potter, how many lives have you taken?   
  
Are you any different from Voldemort?   
  
So much blood on your hands. Is this fight really worth it?   
  
Will there ever be an end to the fighting?  
  
Will you ever live to see peace?   
  
Would there be peace if you would give up and surrender?  
  
What are you fighting for?   
  
Would those around you not have a better life under Voldemorts reign than sitting here,   
in this dirt and darkness, hoping for deliverance that might never come?   
  
Are you an impostor who claims he will rescue them?  
  
Are you going to fail?  
  
  
  
Every night those questions kept him awake until exhaustion made the voices inside his  
head shut up.  
  
He entered the small room that adjoined the platform and provided at least a minimum   
of privacy. On his desk he found a list.  
  
  
Mary Waters - dead  
Stella Constables - injured  
Arielle Bready - lost  
Seamus Finnegan - dead  
Fred Weasley - injured - recovery questionable  
  
  
Harry stared at the list of the last casualties. Most of them were in what they   
called the infirmary, even though it was still crude. Poppy worked restlessly to   
keep them alive and/or to ease their pains. Not much more she could do. Their   
supply of potions was low and the medi witch could not brew the most potent potions   
available. She simply lacked the abilities and the talent of a true potion master.   
But the risk of contacting Snape for the more complex ones was simply too great.   
He was not very eager to help. The last time he had contacted him to brew some  
potions, the acid tongue of the spy had reprimanded him like a school boy.   
  
What was more important? Saving the lives of some decent wizards or keeping the   
spy alive? The old Harry would have probably thought that saving lives of the   
decent was more important than keeping the slimy git alive but H.J. Potter had   
learned. Snape, as much as he disliked him, still had his uses. But every time   
he experienced the acid comments of his ex-teacher, only one thought kept him   
from cursing that disagreeable git. The thought that the day would come when Snape   
would loose his value.  
  
Harry sat down, sighed and cleaned his glasses. A habitual gesture, revealing   
his tiredness.  
  
Ron entered the office, dust in his hair and looking weary.  
  
"Are you sure that this muggle technique of giving blood from one person to another   
will work?" His voice sounded doubtful.   
  
Harry frowned. "Well, the chances are good. I talked to Poppy. You and Fred are close   
relatives, so your blood might be compatible. If George would be here, we would ask him.  
We don't have the facilities to test it but Poppy has read up on some muggle books and   
is quite positive. If our blood is like that of a muggle."  
  
Ron winced at the mentioning of George. He was not ready to loose yet another brother to  
the war. His tone of voice started to show despair.  
"But what if not? Why can't we get a decent blood infusion potion? Or send someone   
to get the ingredients for it!"   
  
Potter's fist slammed onto the table. "Because we don't have that bloody infusion potion!   
And I will not send somebody out to look for the ingredients in the forbidden forest   
nor can I contact Snape. I will not risk more lives. We have to make do with _what_ we have!"  
  
Ron took a step back. His old friend Harry had changed during the years, his temper becoming  
more violent, his scruples diminishing. Ron did not envy Harry and was glad not having to decide   
on whom to send out on some deadly mission, knowing that some of them would not come back.  
But sometimes he wondered where his old school friend had vanished to. Sometimes he even hated   
Harry, wanted to scream at him, shake him so he would become the old Harry he remembered.  
  
But then he reminded himself that it had been a price that Harry had to pay for being a leader.  
And the same voice reminded him that Harry needed a friend, someone he could depend on.  
And Ron Weasley had always been the friend of Harry Potter. So he kept silent, ignoring   
those treacherous thoughts. Sometimes Ron wondered why he had not been sorted into Hufflepuff....  
  
The war had changed Harry. And Ron had to admit that Harry was not the only one.   
He had changed, too.  
  
Weasley's face twisted at the mentioning of Snape.   
"Is there no other potions master available?"  
  
Wearily Potter shook his head. "No-one we could trust..."  
  
Ron sneered. "Don't tell my you are trusting that ugly bat."  
  
His hatred for Snape had never been diminished even tough Snape claimed to be on their side.  
Sometimes he wished that the slimy git would get what he deserved.  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
Ron's shoulders slumped as he walked out, realising that some obscure muggle medicine   
would be the only hope for his brother...  
  
TBC....  
  
*****  
  
For information on the "The Stairway to Nowhere"...  
Go to http://www.starfury.demon.co.uk/uground/deeplevel.html 


	6. Chapter 6

Darkness  
  
by Iejasu   
  
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian! I really owe her!  
  
Chapter 6 - Teachings  
  
  
Snape stared at the sleeping form.  
  
Hermione Granger had been a muggle born. She had the unique ability to combine   
muggle techniques with those of the wizarding world.   
  
Until now he had avoided any form of communication apart from  
giving orders and she had learned to obey. Now it was time to instil some sort   
of intimacy.Her mind was still quick and longed for information. That was an   
addiction, too. He had forbidden her to touch his books and had punished her   
severely when she had overstepped her boundaries. Snape suspected that she would   
keep some of the scars. The outcome justified the means.  
  
Looking down into his glass he smirked. The outcome justifies the means should be   
a Slytherin motto. Machiavelli had been a Slytherin to the bone, as well as the   
Borgia. In fact the Snape's, or better, the Italian branch of his once powerful family,   
the Piton, were descendants of Cesare Borgia.  
  
The heir to the glory of the Borgia resided within the rubble and decay of the past.  
  
His eyes trailed over her body, monitoring her breath.   
His pet project, his cat. By watching her closely he had   
realised that she would be more than glad to leave her old   
persona behind.   
  
Hermione Granger had betrayed everything she believed in.  
  
Hermione Granger had been humiliated.  
  
Hermione Granger had been too weak.  
  
The being in front of him had learned to obey his wishes.   
  
The being in front of him had learned not to question him, both out of fear and out   
of a strange sort of trust.   
  
  
He bent down to her and gently coaxed her back to consciousness. "Miss Granger, wake up."   
He gently released her bonds and rubbed her arms back to life. She looked up to   
him, not fighting.  
  
He had to take the risk of taking her outside. He had resurrected the spells surrounding   
the Quidditch Pitch. Nobody would come close to it without him noticing.   
  
He dragged the girl, clad in school uniform, towards the pitch, past the burst stones   
covered with weed. At first she did not fight him, but after a while she became afraid,   
trying to struggle against his vicelike grip. He turned and slapped her.   
"You will come with me. I want to show you something!"  
  
After that bark she walked behind him like a puppet, knowing that nothing would   
prevent what was coming.  
  
They entered the pitch together.   
  
With the mocking version of a grand gesture he presented her the vast field, covered   
with bones and rags.  
  
"These children were brave. They fought and did not run away. Some of the first years  
even tried to fight adult death eaters with their pitiful wingardium leviosa. Still,   
they fought...." Snape noticed with a little astonishment that his chest still   
tightened when he thought of that battle, but his features as well as  
his voice stayed calm and aloof, like it had been back when he was giving lectures.  
  
He could see the impact of his words. Hermione Granger started to cry helplessly,   
covering her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to turn away from the sight.   
He grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her hard until he could hear her teeth rattle.   
"No, you will not close your eyes. You will face this!"  
  
He shoved her down to the ground, gripping the back of her neck and pushing her face   
right into the dirt, a grinning skull looking up to her. Hermione screamed and started   
to struggle with renewed strength.  
  
"You have killed them! You have left them to die! The head girl should have been the   
one protecting the small ones, but you have been weak. Hermione Granger was a weak and   
low mud blood, someone who was bound to break under stress and run away."  
  
Hermione sobbed helplessly kneeling in the dust, her body rocking and muttering a helpless   
"Yes...yes..."  
  
He yanked her head up, forcing her to face him.  
  
"Do you want to become strong? Do you want to pay them back?"   
His voice had become a soft purr.  
  
The voice was almost broken when she answered him.  
"Yes....yes...make me strong....help me....please, Professor."  
  
He could see the guilt and the shame in her eyes.   
Her soul was pleading for an end of the pain.  
  
"I can help you kill Hermione Granger, make you a new witch. Someone who will never   
be a coward again. Someone the others will fear. Someone who is able to protect the   
little ones. But you have to trust me completely, you have to do whatever I say, no   
matter how terrible, no matter how atrocious. I will teach you everything I know. I   
will keep nothing from you and you will be my apprentice and one day you will be my   
successor. Do you want that?" He was breathing hard now.   
Was this not so much more than any vow for eternal love? To him it was more. He was   
offering everything he was for the price of her soul. But being a Slytherin he had   
made sure that the outcome would be what he wanted it to be.   
  
A glimmer of hope appeared in the eyes of the kneeling girl, her breath came heavy   
and she looked up at the dark wizard.   
"Yes, Professor....yes.....please....teach me....help me."  
  
Snape knelt down in the dust and stared into her eyes, long and hard. With great care   
he dried her tears with his hand and stroked a lock of her unruly hair away from her   
forehead.  
  
In a calm and serene voice he spoke the ancient ritual that declared her his heir   
and apprentice.  
  
Hermione Granger hardly breathed anymore as he gently leaned forward and graced her   
brow with the faintest of kisses. Like a drowning child she held onto his slim form,   
sobbing into the folds of his robe and his slim hands stroke her like a father, gently   
and full of care.  
  
Looking past her shoulder his cold eyes betrayed his gentleness as a thin smile   
appeared on his pale features. Hermione finally belonged to him, body and soul.   
  
  
******  
  
Some weeks later.  
  
"A quick knife is faster than any killing curse." His voice was no different from   
back when he taught in class. Only the subjects were vastly different. His deserted   
potions classroom was now the place to learn totally different subjects. Some of   
them dealt with potions, but most of them dealt with a wide range, both muggle and   
wizarding knowledge. Weapons, martial arts, psychology, anatomy, wards and spells   
for surveillance techniques and undercover investigation, special forms of the obliviate,   
poisons, poison protection.  
  
But he also taught her proper etiquette among old wizarding families, dancing and what  
was considered appropriate. Witches Weekly was among the teaching material he was   
using. She had to learn to pose as a perfect pureblood witch of impeccable upbringing   
to get into the right circles.  
  
He would wake her in the middle of the night, beating her and asking her questions.   
She had to be able to keep up with her performance even half asleep. The one time   
she slipped, the punishment had been long and extremely painful, a lecture of pain   
endurance in itself. Something he did not enjoy but never the less found necessary.   
Torture and their devices were also part of the curriculum. The knowledge would make   
her more aware of any flaws. Occasionally he rewarded her for her progress by allowing   
her limited access to his books. Then she would walk up to the bookshelves with the   
eyes of a child seeing the Christmas tree for the very first time.  
  
He stepped behind the dummy and demonstrated how to slash a throat with minimum effort.   
  
On the dummy certain spots were marked. The areas that would instil instant death, those   
that would render a victim helpless and those that would inflict maximum pain.  
  
Hermione Granger sat erect, taking in every word her said. She had learned not to   
interrupt.   
  
Calmly he stepped back from the dummy, allowing her to practice.  
  
  
  
  
TBC...... 


	7. Chapter 7

Darkness   
  
by Iejasu   
  
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian.  
  
  
Chapter 7 - Preparations   
  
  
Snape changed his tactics concerning his apprentice. He allowed her to sleep   
without the shackles after a few weeks of lessons, but he kept various   
awards up all the time, so he would know if she surpassed his orders.   
He still slept on the couch in his laboratory, as he had done for years.   
Snape knew he looked scruffy and that he was lacking personal hygiene, but he   
rarely cared enough to be bothered. But now he had to make the effort in   
order to put his plan into action.   
  
Cat watched him silently as he walked into his bathroom, stripped and tossed   
the clothes into a corner. His pale body was covered with a slight sheen of   
long dried perspiration and a lot of unpleasant scars and marks from old injuries.   
  
She walked behind him, unsure if her presence was appreciated. He seemed either  
completely ignorant to her presence or chose to ignore her. She supposed the latter.  
  
Cat and watched him filling the large tub and stepping into the scalding hot water.   
Hesitantly she grabbed a cloth, silently asking him for permission to assist. He nodded in   
acceptance and she started to clean him up. His body was not lean, it was emaciated.   
He studied her though his half closed eyes, as if she was a student who had drunken   
an unknown potion. She could see black spots on his arms and legs, where the   
hypodermic needle had marked his flesh. Cats realisation came sudden even though the   
insight was carefully concealed.   
  
He was dying. Slowly, coldly and without a single wail, the life escaped his body like   
a shadow vanishing at noon.   
  
Cat was not his apprentice, she was his testament. A testament written in flesh   
and blood.   
  
Snape felt her hands on his skin. It was a strangely solemn moment. One day she   
would outstrip him, leave him behind. She would take his place and let him rest.  
Maybe she would even honour him by caring for his corpse and holding the death-watch.   
He smiled at that thought.   
  
In a whim he held her wrist for a second, keeping her from continuing her actions.   
"It is the way things have to be", he murmured placidly.  
  
"I know, Professor." She answered in the same dreamlike voice.   
  
****  
  
He took clean robes from the wardrobe, and dressed with great care. Even his hair   
shone like it had never done during his teaching days. Cat could see that he must   
have been a striking man in his youth, or would have been, if he would have had   
ever allowed the chance. Not beautiful, but striking. But the years of torture had   
ripped it from his body and from his soul, leaving behind a shadow of what once   
might have been.   
  
He took a wand and cast a glamourie charm on himself, changing his appearance to a  
younger self, only his eyes remained the same. Empty, hollow and without light.  
Eyes that had witnessed too much.   
  
"Cat, you will stay here, you will guard the property and remain invisible. Is   
that clear? Everything depends your action. If anybody becomes aware of your   
presence, we are as good as dead and everything has failed." His black eyes   
fixed on hers and all she could do was nod in acknowledgement and remain silent.   
  
Yes, he depended on her, she would not fail him.   
  
*****  
  
Snape left the ruins to seek the target he needed. And he was aware that it would   
take some time. And he could not lock her in for more than three days. Also there   
he had to demonstrate his trust in her loyalty. This demonstration was necessary   
for her utilisation. It was dangerous, but he had no choice. He could ask nobody   
for assistance, certainly not Potter and his idiots.   
  
Cat stared at the cupboard, shivering slightly. He trusted her. She would not fail him.  
  
*****  
  
"How is Fred?" Harry's inquiry sounded more tired than inquisitive. Since  
the raid on the Pettigrew Manor, violence had escalated.   
  
They had forged a small victory, but they had also paid for it.   
  
Malfoy had declared that for every pureblood wizard killed, five half-bloods or   
ten mudbloods would be executed.   
  
They had labour camps where those muggle born where held. Terrible places that   
reeked of death.   
  
Every wizard had to produce a parchment, stating his ancestors for at least five  
generations. Most mixed bloods where allowed to be useful but those whose loyalties  
where in question, had been sent to the camps as well.   
  
The muggle bloods never had a chance.   
  
Forged papers showing a "clean" family tree where in high demand and drove quite   
some families into ruin. But better poor than dead, was the motto of these days.   
  
Families that had allowed a mudblood to marry into it, disowned their children or   
parents, who had committed such an abomination. Otherwise the whole family would have  
been endangered. Sometimes a quick divorce from the mudblood followed by a large   
bribe to the right address could solve the problem.   
  
And those who actually had been involved with a muggle, could only flee or show   
some kind of penance, hoping that the Dark Lord and Malfoy would kindly allow them   
to continue breathing. Many hoped in vain.   
  
But Harry faced more severe problems.   
  
To a large majority he was not popular anymore. Only those who had already lost   
everything and had gone into hiding, firmly believed in him. To those who had   
found an uneasy stance in this new wizarding community, everything that endangered   
this "peace" was an enemy.   
  
Each action of Potter and the resistance endangered every half blood family   
that had managed to be tolerated.   
  
Ron often swore and called those "tolerated" wizards 'cowards', but sometimes Harry   
was not sure if he would not do exactly the same if given a choice. Not that he   
ever had a choice.   
  
It was so much easier just to cower, shut up, bribe the right ones..... and to   
hope for better times.   
  
That was the same course of action, Malfoy and the others counted on. And their   
strategy worked out.   
  
You can ask a person about right or wrong only after you have fed them. Starving,  
hopeless people will not often muse about such philosophical issues when their life is  
at stake.   
  
Ron sat next to the bed of a terribly pale Fred Weasley and shrugged. Harry could see   
that his hands were trembling. He must have spent every spare second of the last few   
weeks at the side of his older brother.   
  
"Not good. Something is wrong and Poppy thinks that there was something else involved.   
They probably worked with some kind of 'poison'. The transfusion went fine, but   
he is not getting better. He runs a very high temperature."   
  
Harry's shoulders slumped. He could see the pleading for his brothers life in Ron's eyes.   
He had to do something...anything. If not, he would loose the faith of his   
last 'true' friend.   
  
Harry went off to go to the only man that could provide help. The only potion   
master left in England skilled enough to produce advanced healing potions and   
loyal enough to 'hopefully' comply.   
  
He went to Severus Snape.  
  
TBC.... 


	8. Chapter 8

Darkness -Chapter 8  
  
by Iejasu   
  
Many thanks to my proof-reader Llarian.  
  
Chapter 8 -Seeking, Searching, Observing and Finding   
  
Harry pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The British climate was suitable   
for a mermaid, not for a human. Too much rain, moisture and some more rain.   
He had used one of the relatively secure sewer paths to reach Diagon Alley   
and from there he went through the network of unregistered chimneys and portals they   
used for emergencies and raids. It took him quite some time to reach Hogwarts. The   
ruins stuck out like a splinter violating the beauty of the   
landscape and the sky above.  
  
It had been quite some time since he had been here. In fact he had never been back   
after the last battle. His nose played tricks on him. He could still smell the acid   
smoke in the air, the smell of blood and other body fluids, the underlying smell of   
adrenaline. Yes, one could smell adrenaline too, it was a smell that went straight   
to the spine, that made one restless and strangely longing for action. Maybe it was   
a leftover from those animals men had evolved from.   
  
Sometimes he still dreamt of the battle, the moment Dumbledore died, the cold stare   
of Snape as he watched the Old Wizard dying. Snape had simply turned his back on   
Dumbledore and walked away, cold and rejecting as he had always been. The screams   
of the many children, the eyes of those who waited for him, 'the boy who lived', to   
protect them. He survived the day, many of the children did not.  
  
Tears welled up in his eyes. How could he protect these many children, these many   
wizards. He was only one person. Grimly he wiped away those tears. No use for self   
pity. He would do what he was destined to do. He would fight.  
  
When he reached the compounds of Hogwarts, he scanned the surroundings carefully.   
He knew it was warded heavily. Snape might have dismissed it as "foolish wand-waving",   
but when he needed it he was quite good at setting traps and using that wand of his like   
a surgeon used a deadly scalpel. And he was quite the duellist. He wondered if Snape   
would attack him if he tried to get into Hogwarts.  
  
Feeling the magic that surrounded the compounds, he stopped, scanning the area with his   
senses.   
  
He used a voice direction spell that could transfer a message though buildings into a   
defined area without others being able to hear it.  
  
"Snape? I need one of your potions! I need a "Cure All"....Fred Weasley is dying. We   
tried everything else..."  
  
He waited in the Darkness. No answer.  
  
He tried again, moving closer and trying to use his skill to avoid the traps he could only   
faintly distinguish.  
  
"Snape, you bastard! Give me that potion! Enough have died! Give me that damn "Cure All" or   
I will blast you  
to next week!"  
  
He knew after using his wand, he would be in danger to get caught. Not that he used his own   
wand, they raided various wands on every mission. Those wands were less reliable but they   
worked, at least for some time.  
  
*******  
  
Snape sat in a pub, very much like the 'Three Broomsticks' in Hogsmead but it was a small   
wizarding community in Ireland, dissecting the other customers. Some of the younger witches   
looked expedient for his plans. Luring one of them somewhere was not that hard. With his   
less repugnant appearance he could gain enough time to slip a potion into their drinks. He   
had enough potions and spells that he could found a Harem if needed. Not that he had use   
for that many women.   
  
All those females were at least on the outside faithful followers of Voldemort and the   
Malfoys. A picture on the wall showed the esteemed Malfoy clan with a stylish painting of   
Voldemort just above them. All smiled happily and full of pride and affection.   
A true Witches Weekly. Bile rose in his throat.  
  
He knew exactly what he needed to do. He had to listen closely to all the conversations and   
when he found some seemingly appropriate specimen, he would need to chat her up, deposit   
some of the potion into her drink and lure her to his room. He would interview her with   
vitaserum and then see if she was indeed appropriate. If she was, he would take her to   
Hogwarts, with or without her consent. If not, he would admit some Obliviate. Questioned   
by anyone he would simply state that he was looking for some distraction. It would only   
amuse the Malfoys.  
He would lock her up in his dungeons and make her his own special guinea pig until he knew   
enough to train the Cat accordingly. Then he would get rid of the specimen and allow his   
project to take over her personality and background, ready to be planted into the British   
Wizarding community and working her ranks up to the Inner Circle.  
  
He ordered another drink. It was clear that this would take a while.  
  
********  
  
Cat lay on the floor, feeling miserable. She had not realised how much she would miss   
"the Professor". Without him she felt strangely lost, afraid and vulnerable. He had never   
left her by her own longer than a day, maybe two. But now he was already almost three days   
gone and she felt abandoned. What if he would not come back? What if he got caught? What if.....  
  
Pictures flashed up in her brain. She saw herself sitting at a long table, eating with Harry  
and Ron. But it seemed so surreal, as if that was another person. The girl that wanted  
nothing but books and high marks. No, that was not her, not anymore. She was born when the  
other girl she remembered had died. She remembered running away, to the Forbidden Forrest,  
away from the screams and the smell and all those deaths. The howling of a man followed her   
in her memory. He had gabbed her and thrown her to the floor, ripping her clothes apart   
seeking for some amusement before admitting the 'Avada Kedavra' on her. Sometime later,   
in a haze of fear and pain, her hand found a stone.... Moments later the Death Eater had   
lain immobile on the ground, blood oozing from a gash on the forehead. But it was not enough.  
She had taken the stone and hit him, hit him until there was no face left.  
  
Spent she had fallen down to her knees and vomited.   
  
That was the moment the other girl had died. A coward and a murderer, a whore and a mudblood.  
using a stone instead of a spell.  
  
Whimpering she crawled into the cupboard, closed the door and huddled in a corner. He would   
come back, soon. He would open the door and ask her to come out.  
  
"Snape? I need one of your potions! I need a "Cure All"....Fred Weasley is dying.   
We tried everything..."  
  
The strangely transparent voice startled her. She huddled closer into the corner, trying to   
cover her ears with her hands. But it was to no avail.  
  
"Snape, you bastard! Give me that potion! Enough have died! Give me that damn "Cure All" or  
I will blast you to next week!"  
  
She looked up. The voice demanded a "Cure All". She peeked out of the cupboard, searching   
the room. She knew exactly where the potion was. Staggering she came out of the cupboard  
and searched the shelves for it. She found the potion and held it in her hand, thinking.  
The professor had told her not to come out, not to let anybody see her. But that voice   
would not go away. It would try to enter...  
  
Maybe if she gave the voice what it wanted, it would go away. She rushed out of one of the  
entrances, the vial clutching in her hand, looking for the voice and murmuring   
"He must not see me. The Cat must not be seen."  
  
****  
  
Harry wandered around, trying to find an entrance and feeling more and more annoyed.   
He was cursing himself, Snape and the rest of the Wizarding Community of Britain.   
Where was Snape? He knew there was no Death Eater Gathering tonight. His spies would have   
told him.   
  
So, why did he not come out?   
  
He heard some rustling of leaves and turned around but there was nothing. "Hey, is there   
somebody?" No answer came.  
  
He tried to look closer and suddenly in the corner of his eyes he saw a shadow, rushing away.  
  
"Hey!" He turned and lifted his wand.  
  
But there was no sign of anybody. Annoyed he murmured "Only a cat."  
  
The rustling came again but from a different direction. He turned again and ran, in order  
to catch the cat or whatever it was that was making those noises. When he turned some twigs   
away from the trunk of an old tree,he suddenly saw a vial. He recognised it immediately.   
It was a "Cure All!"  
  
Grabbing the potion he turned to the bushes and stared into them. Who was it? Maybe a house   
elf? Or some kind of trained animal? Or was Snape able to hide in the bushes like a cat?  
So many questions but Snape had always been an enigma.  
  
"Thanks!" was all he could say and then turn to get back to his people.  
  
*****  
  
Cat rushed though the darkness, her feet bare to make as little sound as possible. She could  
see the silhouette of the man, standing in the darkness. When she crawled nearer, the   
silhouette became faintly familiar.   
  
A tall, well muscled young wizard with dark hair and glasses. For a moment her feet slipped   
as her mind added a name to the memory.  
  
Harry, this was her friend Harry!  
  
A part of her wanted to jump up and run to him. Hug him, crying and holding on.   
  
"Hey, is there somebody?"  
  
The Cat shuddered. The voice held so much anger. A demanding voice, a voice like Malfoy. A voice of a leader.   
Harry would not like her. She had betrayed him, she had run away.   
She was not his friend anymore.   
She had betrayed his friendship, she was dead.   
  
She ran to get a better cover.  
Huddled in some bushes, she held the vial close to her chest as if seeking warmth from an   
inanimate object.  
  
But he must have caught the movement in the corner of his eyes.   
  
"Hey!" He turned and lifted his wand. Cat froze for a second but then she put the vial   
down where she sat and hurried back into the darkness. She knew the wards, she knew how to   
get around them. The Professor was a good teacher.  
  
While she vanished into the darkness she could hear the last words Harry muttered under his   
breath.  
  
"Only a cat."  
  
Tears filled her eyes. Yes, Harry was right...She was only a cat.  
  
  
TBC..... 


End file.
